FOR HIND RAJAB

by Nina Lior

You should see the flowers that grew on your grave!

So bright even the sun got jealous

So many blossoms that every home across the world

could put one in a vase and

place it on their windowsill

You were just a little girl

How dark it started

How alone you felt

The sounds of the world exploding around you

and yet nowhere to go but into the land of your 

mothers, where the roots of the olive trees

dance with watermelon seeds,

where the soil is rich with the nutrients of the dead

and the flowers grow so brilliant no one can look away